


Through A Glass, Darkly

by bookwrm89



Category: Torchwood
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-01-01
Updated: 2011-01-01
Packaged: 2017-10-24 07:14:18
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,276
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/260546
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bookwrm89/pseuds/bookwrm89
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ianto Jones is dead...sort of. Post-COE fix-it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Through A Glass, Darkly

[  
](http://pics.livejournal.com/bookwrm89/pic/0001yhg9/)

“Stop pushing it, Ianto! You’re just supposed to touch it and let it guide itself.” Eighteen year-old Rhiannon Jones glared across the Ouija board at her little brother.

 “This is stupid, Rhi,” came the bored reply. “Dad would have your guts for garters if he knew you wasted your allowance on this thing.” The last statement was made with all the confidence of a thirteen year-old who was constantly in trouble with the parent in question.

 “Shut up, Yan,” Rhiannon snapped. “If Dad finds out about this, he finds out about your little habit. I bet you don’t even pay for those cigarettes you smoke.”

“Whatever.” Ianto rolled his eyes and scowled at his sister. “This is still a stupid game.”

Rhiannon looked at her younger brother and marvelled once again at his strength of spirit. No matter what their dad did to him, Ianto persevered and fought back. Sometimes that stubbornness really irritated her, though – like now.

“It’s not a game, Ianto,” she sighed. “It’s a way to contact the spirits of people that have died.”

“Bollocks,” Ianto scoffed. “If dead people wanted to talk to us, they wouldn’t use cheap bits of plastic and cardboard.”

“Fine, I’ll put it away,” Rhiannon capitulated, suiting her actions to her words. She turned back to the slender boy sitting cross-legged in the middle of the floor. “Don’t you have any imagination, Yan? Don’t you believe in fairies, or ghosts…or even aliens? You’re always watching those stupid sci-fi shows on the telly.”

Ianto snorted derisively. “I watch _Pinky and the Brain_ on the telly, too – doesn’t mean I think mice can talk.” He paused and looked at her curiously. “Do you believe in that stuff, Rhi?”

“Yeah, I do, Yan,” she replied thoughtfully. “It’s nice to believe in something other than what we see here on the estate. I’m named after the Welsh goddess of birds, horses, enchantments, fertility and the underworld, you know.”

“So, because you’re named after a goddess that means you have to believe in all that mystical shit?” His eyes reflected a wealth of cynicism well beyond his thirteen years. “Does that mean I should go out and preach the gospel to the unwashed masses because I’m named after an apostle?”

“Don’t be a git, Yan,” Rhiannon replied. “I’m trying to be serious. Don’t you ever want more out of life than what we have?”

Ianto pushed himself to his feet and laughed mockingly. “Yes, oh great goddess Rhiannon, I’d trade my soul for a chance to get off the estate and find true love.”

He turned to walk out of the room and missed the way Rhiannon’s eyes began to glow.

“Done,” she whispered her voice echoing with an otherworldly timbre. “You are mine now, Ianto Padrig Jones. Forever.”

><><><><><><><>< 

 _  
“I take it back, all right? I take it all back. But not him!”  
_

Ianto could feel the virus infecting his body, shutting down his organs, his lungs filling with fluid. He felt his legs give way and he was falling; falling to the floor. Strong arms caught him and eased his descent. He was surrounded by a reassuring scent, the scent of Jack.

  _“No! No, no, no, no, no. Ianto, no!”_

They had discussed it once - he, Gwen and Tosh – how Jack’s scent was different for each of them. Tosh thought he smelled like cherry blossoms after a spring rain and Gwen said it was fresh-baked bread and roses. Ianto thought Jack had always smelled like the wind after a storm at sea, with just the faintest hint of rich coffee and bitter chocolate. Whatever it was, it was intoxicating.

He focused his wandering attention on Jack’s panicked blue eyes. Another aroma was overlaying the Captain’s natural pheromones – a metallic, vinegary smell that wound its way through the comforting scent Ianto knew so well.

  _“It’s all my fault.”_

 “No, it’s not,” he replied, assuring his lover that he wasn’t to blame; it was just the way life went, especially life in Torchwood. Ianto felt Jack’s hand caressing his cheek and relaxed into the sensation until pain rippled through his body.

His face crumpled at the sorrow in Jack’s eyes.  _I didn’t want to leave you like this. I didn’t want to leave you at all._  “I love you.”

 _  
“Don’t.”  
_

Ianto knew that Jack didn’t think of himself as worthy, as deserving to be loved. Ianto knew Jack’s thinking was wrong. If ever a man deserved to be loved, it was Jack, and Ianto wanted him to remember that he _was_ loved. Loved unconditionally for exactly who he was – not as the heroic Captain of Torchwood but as the man, Jack Harkness….

 _  
“Ianto? Ianto? Ianto, stay with me. Ianto, stay with me, please. Please, stay with me, please.”  
_

Ianto opened his eyes. His entire body ached, like he’d been chasing Weevils for days and then come down with the flu. His eyes wandered before focusing back on Jack. Jack, who was holding him in his arms, regret on his face and tears in his beautiful blue eyes.

“Hey. It was good, yeah?” Ianto forced the words out past vocal chords that seemed to want to freeze. Suddenly the pain was gone, just a heaviness left in his chest that made it difficult to breathe. The rest of his body felt numb, except where Jack was touching him – he could still feel Jack’s arms holding on to him, keeping him anchored.

 _  
“Yeah.”  
_

Looking into Jack’s eyes, he knew he was as close as he was ever going to get to eternity. The regret and sorrow of millennia shone in that indigo gaze and suddenly Ianto was afraid.

“Don’t forget me,” he pleaded.

 _  
“Never could.”  
_

Ianto felt tears well beneath his eyelids. He knew memories faded over time. He’d realized a few short weeks ago that he could no longer recall exactly how Lisa’s skin felt beneath his hands. Even if Jack truly wanted to remember him, Ianto knew that, eventually, he’d be forgotten.

“In a thousand years’ time,” his voice broke, “you won’t remember me.”

 _  
“Yes, I will. I promise. I will.”  
_

It felt like there was an invisible cloth over his face. He struggled to breathe in more oxygen. Everything was dim around him, only Jack’s face could still be seen clearly. He fought to keep his eyes open but he was tired, so very tired. Maybe if he closed his eyes for just a moment…

 _  
“Ianto? Ianto? Don’t leave me, please. Please, don’t…”  
_

 ><><><><><><>< 

Ianto Jones opened his eyes to a world covered in darkness. He couldn’t remember what had happened, but he felt a sense of urgency coursing through him. Jack – he had to find Jack.

A glow was coming from somewhere behind him and Ianto turned around, hoping he could find someone, anyone, to explain what was going on. The light was coming from a rectangular opening.

He moved forward and found himself looking out over a large room - a room where bodies had been laid out in orderly rows and covered with red cloths. Movement drew his attention to the far side of the room and what he saw caused the breath to catch in his throat.

A dark haired woman sat between two of the red draped bodies. The shrouds had been pulled away from the faces and her head was bowed over one of the forms. Her hand kept fussing with the clothing on the still figure.

When the body behind the woman sat up, Ianto realized what he was seeing.  _Jack_. Jack had died and come back and Gwen was there waiting for him. Who was the body that Gwen was facing, though?

 “Not Rhys,” Ianto whispered, wracking his brain for what had happened.

His memory came back with a vengeance when he saw Jack move over and wrap an arm around Gwen; both of them clearly mourning for the figure in front of them.

“No,” Ianto screamed, pounding on the transparent surface in front of him. “Jack! Gwen! No, I’m here. I’m here. Jack!”

“He can’t hear you,” an unearthly voice murmured in his ear.

“What?” He whirled around to face the being next to him, eyes wide in shock. “R-Rhiannon?” he faltered. “What – what are you doing here? And what the fuck are you wearing?”

His sister was standing next to him in a flowing ivory gown, her hair hanging loose and free around her face. A faint luminescence surrounded her.

“Rhi?” He was either dead or on some really powerful drugs.

“You’re dead,” Rhiannon answered his unspoken thoughts.

Ianto crossed his arms and glared at his sister. “If I’m dead, then what are you doing here? And were, exactly, is _here_ anyway?”

“You’ve always had a strong soul, Ianto Jones,” she began to explain. “Even as a child your spirit shone across the astral plane, calling to the supernatural forces of this world. I was the one that got to you first.”

“What do you mean?” he asked suspiciously. “Who the fuck are you?”

“You never had a sister, Ianto Jones; you were born an only child,” she said. “I assumed a place in your family, using my powers to make your parents think they had a daughter.” 

“Who are you?” Ianto whispered as his entire world shifted out of alignment one more time.

“You called me by name once, Yan, remember? The day we played with the Ouija board?” she goaded. “You were thirteen years old and what happened that day is directly responsible for you being here today.”

The memory of that day forced its way to the front of his mind and Ianto gasped in shock. “No, it’s not possible. You’re a myth.”

Her peal of laughter grated over his already raw nerves. “How many years have you worked for Torchwood, Ianto Jones? And you can still say something isn’t possible? What is it your Captain always says – most myths have some basis in fact?”

“If you are really a goddess, what do you want with me?” Ianto demanded. “Why am I so special?”

“I told you already, Yan,” she replied impatiently. “You have one of the strongest souls I’ve ever seen; and now it’s mine.”

“Yours?! What do you mean it’s yours?” Ianto yelped.

“You traded it to me for a life off the estate you grew up on and a chance to find true love,” she pointed out. “You had a life off the estate; it’s just too bad that you didn’t find true love before you died.”

“I’ve felt true love,” Ianto protested, his sorrow at leaving Jack alone again choking off his words.

“Ah, but he never said he loved you back,” she reminded him triumphantly. “Therefore your soul is forfeit to me for eternity.”

“What about Lisa?” Ianto asked desperately. “I loved –“

The goddess scoffed. “What you felt for Lisa wasn’t true love – it was infatuation exacerbated by survivor’s guilt and Welsh stubbornness. No, your soul is mine, Ianto Jones.” 

Ianto’s mind was reeling. He turned away from the being at his side to look out over the gymnasium. He rested his head against his forearm and watched as Jack gathered his lifeless body into his arms.

“So, what happens next?” he asked quietly.

“That is entirely up to you, Ianto,” Rhiannon answered back. “You have two choices – either give up now and submit your soul to me willingly, or –“

“Or what?” Ianto demanded when her voice trailed off.

“There is a way out of this but it won’t be easy,” she explained. “You can remain on this plane of existence and attempt to find someone to take your place. You will be trapped here, only able to see what is going on in the world out there through reflective surfaces.”

Ianto glared over his shoulder at her. “How the hell am I supposed to find someone to take my place? Will anyone be able to see me? Will they be able to hear me?”

“Under the right circumstances, yes, you will be seen and heard. Is that your choice?” she asked.

“What are the ‘right circumstances’?” Ianto enquired. He paused, waiting for an answer that never came. Sighing, he made his decision. “Yes, that is my choice.”

 When there was no response, he looked around. Rhiannon had disappeared, leaving him alone with his thoughts. He turned back to watch his lover and his friend mourn him. He rested his fingers lightly against the barrier and whispered a promise.

 “I’ll find a way back to you, my Captain. I promise.”

*********

Ianto rolled his eyes as he watched the scene unfold in front of him. “For a supposedly intelligent, wise being, he really has no idea how to read people,” he muttered to himself. “Does he really think giving Jack a young, pretty boy will make up for all the hurt he’s caused over the years?”

He watched as the Doctor saluted his former Companion and then left.  When Jack turned to the young man seated next to him, Harkness grin firmly plastered across his face, Ianto allowed his ‘window’ to the world to go dark.  
  
It wasn’t that he begrudged Jack the pleasure and fleeting happiness – and it would be fleeting, even in the unlikely event that it lasted for years – Ianto just had no desire to watch Jack with one of his conquests at the moment. He’d already tested to see if anyone in the bar could see him as Jack had been going there ever since he’d arrived on the planet three weeks ago.

Over the years that he’d been trapped in this non-existence, Ianto had learned a few things about how his ‘afterlife’ worked. If he concentrated hard enough, he could travel through time, observing history or the future, but unable to interact with it.  
   
In all that time, only two people had ever been able to see him. The first was a young man that lay dying in a hospital during World War One. Ianto had been following Jack’s military career and one of his men was in the next bed down from Private Evans.  Evans was next to the window that Ianto was using to watch Jack.  
   
The young private was delirious and kept asking the nurses if the angel was there for him. It was only when he looked directly into Ianto’s eyes and begged the ‘angel’ to stop the pain that Ianto realised Evans could see him. Unfortunately, the man slipped into a coma and died later that night without regaining consciousness.  
   
The second person able to see and interact with him was his own mother. He had vague memories of a woman with dark hair and sad, blue eyes that his dad took Rhiannon and he to visit occasionally when he was very young. Wanting to know what she’d been like, he’d moved through time to Providence Park and found his mother’s room.  
   
She was lying, restrained, on her bed; staring blankly at the ceiling. He’d bowed his head in sorrow at the sight of the emaciated figure that was his mother.  
   
“Oh, Mam, I’m so sorry,” he had whispered. He’d gotten the shock of his afterlife when he heard her reply. His head snapped up and he stared into the eyes watching him in the window of her room.  
   
“Hello, are you the _ysbryd_?” Her soft voice filled his mind with cherished childhood memories and he wasn’t surprised to feel tears fill his eyes and trickle down his cheek. “Are you here to take me with you?”  
   
Not trusting his voice, Ianto shook his head and allowed the window to go dark.  He leaned against the wall and slowly sank until he was sitting on the floor.  As difficult as it had been to see his mother, her ability to see him had started a new train of thought.  
   
It seemed that the only people that could see him were people that were out of their minds.  Which raised an interesting dilemma – could he take advantage of a mentally unstable person and trick them into switching places with him?  Ianto found himself hoping that he was wrong in his assumptions of who could see him.  He didn’t think he’d be able to deliberately mislead someone of limited comprehension.  
   
Rhiannon stopped by every decade or so to see if he’d changed his mind about giving her his soul. At first he’d told her to fuck off, now he just ignored her. He took an almost childish delight in the temper tantrums that ignoring her caused.  
   
Truthfully, he was almost ready to give up and let her have his soul. Watching Jack exude that animal magnetism of his that invited everyone in, yet kept them all at arm’s length – it made Ianto’s heart ache for his Captain. Jack was surrounded by people but always alone. And that was why Ianto couldn’t give up.  
   
He didn’t delude himself into thinking that he was the only person that Jack could ever be happy with. Ianto wasn’t that conceited. But as long as there was a chance of him getting back to his lover, he would wait – if only to smack Jack Harkness upside the head for keeping himself closed off from love.  
   
Closing his eyes, he leaned his head back and began to center himself to continue his quest to return to his Captain’s side.  
   
><><><><><><><><   
   
In the one hundred and fifty years since Ianto’s death, Jack had stuck mainly to linear time. Ianto had been able to watch humanity’s progress to the stars and beyond. Jack had been right; the 21st century was when everything changed and Ianto Jones got to see it, even if he was dead at the time.  
   
Other than a few visits to the past, Ianto had stuck pretty close to where Jack was at any given moment. It wouldn’t do either of them any good for Ianto to succeed, get his life back, and then be stuck in the past with no way to get to Jack. Since time-travel had been discovered, he’d started going a little further in his search for someone to take his place.  
   
Ianto found himself looking out on a busy marketplace, seemingly from a water fountain in the center of the square. The snippets of sound that he picked up told him he was back on Earth sometime in the 32nd century.   
   
He smiled when he saw that some superstitions seemed to survive the test of time. A group of children were gathered at the edge of the fountain, tossing in coins and giggling as they closed their eyes and made wishes. One small boy in particular caught his eye.  
   
Standing a little separate from the rest of the group, he looked to be about six or seven. Dark blonde hair curled gently around his face, which was set in an attitude of intense concentration. His forehead was puckered into a serious frown, eyes squeezed tightly closed and his lips moved silently as he made his wish.  
   
Wondering what could be that important to such a young boy that would cause him to wish so intently, Ianto gasped when the child’s eyes opened and stared directly at him. He tried to tell himself that the boy wasn’t really looking at him, but had to concede otherwise when the boy waved right at him.  
   
Testing that it was actually true, Ianto waved back. The smile brightening the small face almost convinced him.  
   
“You can see me, can’t you?” Ianto asked, glad that English seemed to be the main language being spoken around them.  
   
“Uh huh.” The little boy nodded. “Are you the djinn of the fountain that grants wishes?”  
   
Before Ianto could answer, the young woman that had been watching the children called them all over to her. When the small boy ignored her summons, she came to get him. “Patrick? Come on, Patrick, it’s time to go back to the school now. Your dad will be there soon to pick you up.”  
   
“Yes, Miss Carew,” Patrick replied politely. The young boy grasped his teacher’s hand and waved his free hand back at Ianto. “Bye, djinn!”  
   
Intrigued at this youngster that could not only see him, but hear him as well, Ianto centered on the school, hoping to talk with the boy further. When his ‘window’ cleared again, he seemed to be looking out over the playing fields towards the front of the school. He saw the boy climbing into a hovercraft, but couldn’t see the driver.  
   
Using all the tricks he’d learned over the years, Ianto followed the vehicle to a small bungalow just outside the city. Spying the large picture window at the back of the house, Ianto focused his attention there, figuring that Patrick would be out to play shortly.  
   
He wasn’t wrong. The back door opened and the little boy ran outside with a ball and began to play. A deep voice from inside told him that he only had an hour until dinner was ready.  
   
Ianto stayed still and just watched the boy, not wanting to draw attention to himself just yet. This was the first time in over a hundred years that someone had been able to see him, but his internal debate remained. Could he deliberately trick someone else into switching places with him, especially someone as young and innocent as Patrick?  
   
This could be his one chance at escaping his prison and getting his life back. What if he gave up this opportunity and never found another person that could see him? Could he really be selfish enough to trap a little boy for eternity?   
   
Before he could begin to decide what to do, the ball landed in front of his window and Patrick was running over to retrieve it. The boy stopped short when he saw Ianto’s reflection in the window.  
   
“Hullo,” he said, smiling. “Did you follow me home from the fountain?”  
   
Chuckling at the boy’s calm acceptance of his presence, Ianto replied, “Yes, I did. It’s been so long since I’ve had anyone to talk to and I wanted to see you again.”  
   
“My daddy says I shouldn’t talk to strangers,” the boy confided. “But you’re a djinn, you just grant wishes. Are you really a djinn?”  
   
“Patrick, who are you talking to?”   
   
Ianto froze and closed his eyes at the familiar voice that was speaking to the young boy. It couldn’t be… he opened his eyes and felt his heart sink to the bottom of his feet. Patrick’s father was Captain Jack Harkness.  
   
“Daddy!” Patrick exclaimed. “I was talking to the djinn from the fountain of wishes in the marketplace. I made a wish there today and he followed me home so he could talk to me some more.”  
   
Ianto didn’t hear the reply as he was distracted by the sudden appearance of Rhiannon at his side.   
   
“Cute kid isn’t he?” she asked, her tone gleefully malicious. “Do you think Jack would be happy to see you if it meant never seeing his son again?”  
   
“Bitch,” Ianto hissed. “You did this deliberately.”  
   
“Of course I did.” Spiteful laughter spilled from her lips. “Did you really expect me to play fair, Ianto? You were right, you know, this is your last chance to break free. Can you do it, I wonder?” she mused. “Can you condemn a little boy, your lover’s son, to this endless existence? Can you become like the creatures that killed you?”  
   
Patrick’s voice cut through the fog of misery surrounding Ianto. “I think the djinn is sad, Daddy. He’s crying.”  
   
Ianto turned to the goddess that had tormented him for so many years. “You win,” he said. “I could no more condemn that little boy to this existence than I could stop loving Jack. Before you take my soul though, can I have just a few more minutes to watch them?”  
   
A childish giggle interrupted them before Rhiannon could say anything. “The djinn loves someone with the same name as you, Daddy.”  
   
“What does this djinn look like, Patrick?” Jack asked, encouraging his son’s imagination.  
   
Ianto listened closely, wondering how the boy would describe him.  
   
“He’s tall, like you, Daddy, and he has dark hair.” Patrick studied Ianto for a moment before continuing. “He has sad blue eyes and he’s wearing dark, fancy trousers and a red shirt. His jacket matches his trousers, too.”  
   
Ianto watched the colour drain from Jack’s face as the Captain turned towards the window.  
   
“Ianto?” Jack whispered. “Are you there?”  
   
The impossibly blue eyes looked searchingly at the window. Ianto’s hands were pressed flat against the barrier as if, if he could push hard enough, he could push his way through to Jack’s world.  
   
“I’m here, Jack,” Ianto murmured, wishing that his lover could hear him, could see him.  
   
“Daddy, the djinn said he is here,” Patrick said, awe overlaying his voice. “Do you know the djinn, Daddy?”  
   
Jack reached out a shaking hand and pressed it against the glass. “I wish I could see you one more time, Ianto,” he breathed, leaning his forehead against the window.  
   
Ianto mirrored Jack’s position, imagining the barrier between them wasn’t there.  
   
“I’d tell you what I wish I’d had the courage to tell you all those years ago,” Jack continued, tears running down his face. “I’d let you know how you how much you meant to me, tell you that I loved you, Ianto. I still love you. Always have, always will.”  
   
Ianto’s heart clenched as he finally heard the words he’d known were true, but that had never been verbalized before now. So concentrated on Jack, he barely heard the infuriated shriek from the divine being next to him. Eyes closed, it was like he could feel Jack’s breath on his face and the solid warmth of Jack’s arms around his body.  
   
“Daddy, why are you hugging the djinn?” Patrick’s young voice brought them both out of their daze and to the reality that they were holding each other in their arms, no barrier between them.  
   
“Oh my god,” Ianto exclaimed, realizing he was really there. He clutched Jack’s body tightly against his own, immersing himself in the remembered scent and touch of his lover.  
   
“How is this possible?” Jack asked wonderingly, running his hands over Ianto’s back.  
   
“It is possible because of his devotion and love for you, Jack Harkness, and your love for him.”   
   
Both men turned at the sound of the deep voice. They saw a hooded figure standing in the bright sunlight, leaning against a spear. Even though the figure was standing in full sunlight, there was no shadow cast on the grass around him.  
   
“I am Arawn, god of the Underworld, and Rhiannon’s father,” the figure continued. “The deal she made with you, Ianto Jones, was an unfair one. She tricked you into it and took advantage of your perceived relationship with her.”  
   
“Thank you, Sir,” Ianto replied, frowning slightly in confusion. “But, why wait until now to break the deal?”  
   
“Ah, but I didn’t break the deal, Ianto Jones,” Arawn pointed out. “I merely bent the rules a little regarding the fulfillment of the bargain.”  
   
Ianto could sense Jack’s confusion and murmured that he’d explain everything later. He felt Jack’s arms tighten around him as his lover straightened to confront the being in front of them.  
   
“I don’t know how this is possible, or why this is happening,” Jack began. “I’m not going to look a gift horse in the mouth. But…how long until…?”  
   
Ianto tightened his arms, knowing what Jack was trying to ask.  
   
“As my daughter told Mr. Jones, he has a very strong soul,” Arawn stated. “A soul that strong is always a magnet for otherworldly beings. He will continue to be at risk unless his soul has a powerful protector.”  
   
Both Ianto and Jack remained quiet, afraid of what Arawn would say next.  
   
“The best thing would be to tie Ianto Jones’ soul to someone who will love and protect it,” Arawn continued. “However, if I do that, his life will be tied to the person whose soul he is connected to.”  
   
“Which means what, exactly?” Jack demanded.  
   
“It would mean that he would live as long as his protector lives. Which, in your case, Jack Harkness, would be forever. Are you willing to be responsible for his soul for eternity?”  
   
“Yes,” Jack cried. “Yes, I would gladly take on that responsibility but what would that mean for Ianto?”  
   
“I can speak for myself, Jack,” Ianto teased, nudging Jack’s side with his elbow. He turned to the figure of the god and raised his eyebrow in question. “Well?”  
   
The sound of hollow laughter rang through the air. “You would age at the same rate as Mr. Harkness and have the same healing abilities.”  
   
Jack sent a warning glance towards his son, who was avidly watching the conversation unfold around him. Arawn nodded, knowing that the Captain was concerned his son would find out about his father’s ability before he was old enough to understand.  
   
“The other would be the same, as well,” he answered Jack’s unspoken question. “That is the price of the life I am offering. Do you accept, Ianto Jones?”  
   
“Yes,” he said quietly, immediately turning to put his hand over his lover’s mouth, knowing the protest that was coming. “Yes, that is a small price to pay for what I’ll gain.”  
   
“It is done,” Arawn pronounced. “The soul of Ianto Padrig Jones will be protected for eternity by Captain Jack Harkness. I will leave you to your reunion. I wish both of you, and your son, much joy.”  
   
He disappeared as suddenly as he’d arrived, leaving a resounding silence in the yard.  
   
“Daddy?” Patrick’s hesitant voice drew their attention to him. “You always said you named me after my da.” He pointed towards Ianto. “Your name is Ianto Padrig Jones?”  
   
Ianto nodded, unsure of where this was going and wondering at the tension in Jack’s frame.  
   
“My name is Patrick Jonas Harkness.” Shrewd eyes narrowed on his father’s face. “Daddy, is he my da?”  
   
Jack placed his hand on top of Patrick’s head. “Yeah, kiddo, this is your da,” he replied, tightening his arm around Ianto’s waist.  
   
“Jack?” Ianto gasped in shock, turning towards his lover. “What did you do?”  
   
Humor warred with shock in Ianto’s mind as he watched Jack straighten his shoulders and lift his chin in that patented Harkness ‘I’m-the-Captain’ attitude he had.  
   
“I found someone that could fix my vortex manipulator,” Jack explained. “As soon as I knew it would work, I went back to Torchwood and waited until we were all out of the Hub, then I went in and stole a vial of your blood. Technology is available now that can mix the DNA of two men and grow a child in an artificial environment until it’s ready to be born.”  
   
“Jack…” Ianto didn’t know what to say. The Captain looked like he was waiting for an explosion, but Ianto wasn’t angry, he was just confused. “Why?”  
   
“Because I wanted a piece of you, Ianto,” Jack choked out. “I missed you so damn much and I desperately wanted to go back, grab hold of you and take you away from everything, but I couldn’t. Raising our child was the next best thing and now we’ll be able to do it together. Don’t be angry, please?”  
   
“I’m not angry, Jack, just overwhelmed,” Ianto replied. “An hour ago I was facing losing my soul for eternity and now I’m here with you, alive. I have a son and an eternity with the man I love.”  
   
“It’s all okay, though, right?” Jack questioned.  
   
“Okay?” Ianto asked incredulously. “As you once told me all those years ago, I wouldn’t change it for the world.”  
   
~fin~


End file.
